Thursday, April 30, 2009

Big Kid on Swine Flu

Yesterday during my swine flu panic, I told Big Kid that he should wash his hands a lot for right now. Wash them before eating and after using the bathroom, and any time he thinks he might have touched something germy because there is a virus going around.

"So, I'm sposed to go back to washin' my hands like I used to? Like, all da time?"


"Good," he said happily, his OCD-like tendencies satisfied.

Today I picked him up and he said, "What was dat fing? Da one I'm sposed to wash my hands for?"


"Like fires? Or somfin'? I'm sposed to wash my hands all da time again 'cuz somefin' was goin' around?"

"Oh yeah, virus. A flu."

"I was tryin' to tell Ahsiya because she hadn't heard da news, but she didn't know what I was talkin' about. I was dest tryin' to tell her da news, she doesn't wash her hands enough is what I fink. So it's a virus?"

"Yep, but washing your hands with hot water and soap can kill the germs that make the virus."

"What's da virus called? You called it somefin'."

"Swine flu."

"Swine flu. I'm gonna wash my hands so much dat I'm gonna kill da swine flu. No swine flu germs are gonna get on me, I'll wash 'em away with hot water and soap and KILL DEM DEAD. Straight up to heaven to be wif God, dat nasty virus."

Oops. I mean, it's good he's serious about it and he'll definitely be washing his hands, but I forgot about his tendency to obsess/dramatize and the possibility of him spreading swine flu panic amongst the kindergartners .

Oh well. Won't hurt those snot-nosed brats to wash their grimy hands every once in a while.

I have some swine flu related links for you:
Do I have swine flu?
The truth about swine flu
Winnie the Pooh on Swine Flu

Solitary Confinement

I can't provide pictures right now because little kid is in solitary confinement.

Time out just isn't enough for the crap he's pulled today.

He is in his room until his dad gets home. I have closed the bedroom door and the pocket door for that wing of the house, and he just better hope for his little butt's sake that he behaves in there because I HAVE HAD IT.

Modified Clown Mullet

little kid found scissors and cut off his bangs.

Just when I thought his hair couldn't look any more ridiculous, he finds a way.

Won't you be my neighbor

I'm really glad I don't live next door to me.

little kid wanders onto the back porch naked at least three times a day. Luckily, we are surrounded by thick hedges, but there is one blank spot in the back hedge that creates a clear window between us and our neighbors behind us.

The homes on either side of us and behind us each have 1 dog. My dogs have declared war on all three dogs, particularly the fat cocker spaniel that lives right behind us. Barking ensues among all parties any time anyone lets their dogs into their yard. My dogs are winning because there are two of them.

Speaking of my dog pack, they don't understand public right of way situations. They think the street in front of our house, and even the front yard of the house across the street, belong to us. That means it is their duty to stand at the windows that flank our front door and Lily barks ferociously and Murphy howls like a Beagle if anyone dares to walk or drive by.

When the dogs go out, Murphy is on a chain in the back yard and Lily is trusted to just stay back there since she is old and well trained. Lily listens 99.5% of the time, but the other .5% she goes through the hedges to the neighbor's backyard.

I yell at, and for, the dogs often and Murphy pretty much only listens to a high pitched whistle I do and only after I've done it at least 3 times.

Big Kid and little kid are loud and spend a lot of time on the porch or back yard. If they want to play the harmonica, I make them do it out there.

Sooooooo, we love the neighborhood but I highly doubt they love us.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Swine Flu

My throat has been starting to hurt the last couple of hours, and the more I think about it, the more certain I am that I have Swine Flu.

I was at Walmart yesterday and that would be the most likely place for me to contract it.

Although being quarantined sounds not-so-bad-at-all, I'm hoping it is all in my head and just a symptom of watching too much news.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Easy links

I'm really tired tonight, after a marathon day of getting my hair done (long overdue), attempting to wax my own eyebrows (didn't go well) and watching Big Kid's kindergarten class concert (too freaking cute).

So instead of a real post, I'll slap some photos up and call it a night.

Nevermind, I tried to put up some pics of little kid but it was taking way too long. We'll do some links instead:

A really cute bunny
Beautiful picture made from nails
World's largest man with his dad
Smallest man with his cat
Glenn Beck's dressing room

Nothing too brainy tonight. Those are all pretty much just pictures, for those of you non-readers. Inevitably someone always wants to know where I find all of these links and I would love to tell you all...but then you'd all be hanging out there instead of here, so I can't.

Monday, April 27, 2009

It's Been 16 Minutes

I'm so sick of Miss California and her gay marriage bullshit qualifying as major news.


She's some chick from a beauty pageant. Who the hell really cares what she thinks?

Until Miss USA is actually in charge of something, I could give a crap less what she thinks about gay marriage, or anything really. If you want to ask her, fine, but it is not news that should persist for more than one day.

Little Bad Ass

Today Big Kid's class went on a field trip to the zoo and little kid and I decided to go along. I figured this would be a total nightmare, but it actually wasn't that bad.

Big Kid's class loves little kid. He often shows up at their classroom in his shorts and cowboy boots, grinning ear to ear as usual, and they chant his name or grab at him and he gets all riled up from the attention.

However, today at the zoo they were all fussing over him like he was a baby and he didn't like that. He'd jerk away as they tried to hug him, and give them dirty looks when they exclaimed over him falling down. At one point I was holding him in my arms and one of the boys was playfully calling him a chicken over and over again. Finally, little kid leaned forward so that he was forehead to forehead with him and said, "Look dude, I not a chicken. You no call me chicken anymore. Not no more!" in a low, serious voice.

Everyone laughed, but no one really messed with little kid again. He made it clear that he doesn't put up with anybody's crap.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Good Character

I got a "character star" (a new behavior-reward system we're trying out) from Big Kid for making him orange juice the other day.

So I guess it was worth it after all.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Gut Wrenching

So, Big Kid and I had a great day. We went to the kid's orchestra program, out to lunch, and to a friend's birthday party.

The birthday party was at some crap-ass "amusement" park (I put amusement in quotes because it's not very amusing at all) with shitty rides. One of the rides was a row of seats that they'd lift into the air and then drop, over and over again.

It didn't look like fun to me at all, but Big Kid's friends were going on it and he was excited to go on it too.

The first drop he turned gray. His face was so scared. Every time the chairs fell his legs would shake in terror. When it ended he was shaken and quiet. A friend of his (who didn't go on the ride because he was scared) laughed and said it was funny he was so scared (it was kind of funny, in a helpless, heartbreaking kind of way). I pointed out to the friend that at least Big Kid tried it and I told him he did great.

It was time to leave the party (the SUCKIEST party EVER, for a number of reasons) and when we got in the car, Big Kid said, "Next time, I'm gonna try to be brave. I dest wanna be brave."

"What?? You were brave! It was brave to even go on that scary looking ride!"

"I didn't feel very brave," he said in a quiet voice.

"Well, you felt scared once you got going. The ride is made to make you feel scared. That's fun for some people, maybe it's not your way to have fun. You were brave to try it though."

"I didn't feel very brave," he said again, in the same quiet voice.

I changed the subject to the fun parts of our day, but I could tell he was still thinking about it. As we got out of the car, I saw that he looked sad and I asked what was up.

"I feel...asamed. 'Bout dat ride," he said in a small, hesitant voice.

"Ashamed?? Did you say ashamed?? NO! No, no, no. That's so silly. You didn't cry, or pee your pants, or throw up. You were brave!"

"I felt like I was gonna frow up. I didn't feel brave."

"You were brave! You were so, so, so brave. Those rides make everyone feel like they're going to throw up. That's what they're designed to do! It was awesome that you tried it. You don't have to like it, you don't have to do it again. Lots of people don't like that sort of thing. I wouldn't like that."

I then promised that I'd find a way to get him violin lessons and a child-sized violin, hoping to bring back the earlier magic of the day. (I'm not so sure how I will swing this, but I was in a panic at the time)

Mr. Ashley took the boys to the monster truck show tonight, and I'm still sitting here heartbroken over his reaction to the ride. Ashamed? Oh, goodness. He is just so sensitive and sweet, I live in constant terror that the world will chew him up and spit him out one day.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Unexcused Absence

When Big Kid got in the car today, I asked him how his day went and then asked if anyone wondered where he was yesterday.

"Yep, Sophia asked and I tode her I only have one blue shirt and it was dirty wif a big stain, so I couldn't go to school."

Big sigh..."Big Kid!"

"What? Dat's what happened?"

"No, you had another shirt but we were having an Earth day party. And, your light blue shirt wasn't dirty, it was clean but with a stain."

"Because we don't have Oxiclean...I thought I didn't go 'cuz of da shirt?"

Whatever. I knew he was going to do it. He says only Sophia asked, so maybe I got off easy but I somehow doubt it.

Today was Sophia's birthday, so he picked a flower for her and made her a card that said, "Happy Birthday 6 year old!"...he is such a gentleman and a sweetheart, even if he does embarrass the crap out of me sometimes.


So I had another moment of weakness in which I again attempted to "be a good mom" (whatever the hell that means, I've officially decided if you're feeding them, clothing them, and not beating their asses too often, you're a "good mom").

Our new backyard has orange trees. Lots of them. This brings an incredible amount of joy to the children. Big Kid climbs up and shakes the branches, and little kid runs around with his wheelbarrow and tries to catch the oranges before Lily does.

The problem is that there is a finite number of oranges. New oranges take a while. The kids cannot comprehend this and strip the trees of any sign of the color orange on a daily basis. Then they beg me to feed them the oranges, most of which are not ripe enough or have been punctured by the dog. I do oblige when I think the oranges look remotely edible, but it's a total pain in the ass for me.

Their big time dream is orange juice. Big Kid insists we need 18 oranges to make orange juice, and I have agreed on this recipe since it's unlikely we'll ever have 18 ripe oranges at one time. Today I saw him out there straining to reach three oranges that had survived by clinging to the very top of tree, little kid waiting patiently below with his wheelbarrow.

You know what I did? I went out there with a broom, knocked the oranges loose, and brought them into the kitchen, dug out my hand juicer and made enough orange juice for two small glasses. I took the tiniest of sips and it was like heaven in a freaking good.

I called the kids in and presented them with their glasses of cool, sweet, refreshing orange juice and they were OVER-JOYED. Seriously, for a minute there, I was the best mom ever.

And then I went to the bathroom and little kid hit Big Kid with a metal pole and Big Kid spilled his entire glass. He was inconsolable, and there wasn't much I could do about it. little kid offered him his glass which seemed like the perfect answer until I realized that little kid had already drank his.

So I filled both cups up with a small amount of water and told them that now it was diluted orange juice, just like in the store.

Next time I'm going to put all of the juice in a chilled pilsner glass and drink every freaking drop myself, while they watch. If there's going to be crying or screaming either way, I may as well get some orange juice out of it.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Anniversary & Earth Day

So, celebrating your anniversary at a Japanese steak house with your kids is a really bad idea.

As I sat squished up against the wealthy, chubby old man next to me and spent half of dinner insisting to little kid that the Incredible Hulk got his muscles from eating food cooked just like this, I looked at Mr. Ashley who sat a good 5 feet away, not squished against a stranger, and realized there was nothing romantic about my situation.

Prior to that, I was at least sitting next to Big Kid, who was making up word scrambles for me to solve in my head. Also not romantic or sexy. Then little kid began insisting that he would only eat if he could eat my food, and only after a hug. Not just any hug, a long hug.

The food was good, the company was iffy and the bill was expensive. Lesson learned.

Today was an early release day for Big Kid's school. I had decided that it really wasn't worth my time to drive a total of 2 hours for him to attend school for 4 hours and that he would just play hooky at home with me.

He was not down with this plan. At all. He could not miss Earth day.

But then I went to pull his uniform shirt out of the dryer and noticed it had a big stain on it. I decided it was a clear sign that today wasn't meant to be a school day and told him if he stayed home we'd have an Earth Day party and go on a nature walk together. He said, "You shoulda dest used Oxiclean. You put it in wif your laundry and it makes all stains go away! I'll stay home, but you need to get some next time we go to Wal-mart."

Mmmmmkay. Will do.

I know, absolutely KNOW that he'll go to school tomorrow and announce that he couldn't come to school because his shirt had a stain because I don't use Oxiclean. I tried to hint that we should give another reason, but he started to get all indignant about why I'd want to lie. Whatever. I get to start over again next year.

I had a pretty good plan for the day, I thought. I would take them on a nature walk through the preserve at a nearby park, winning "good mom" points and wearing them out before late afternoon when they really get on my nerves.

Like a good mom, I packed a backpack with snacks, an empty notebook to use as a "field journal" and pencils and crayons.

Like typical kids, they fought over the backpack, and the snacks, and the notebook and the pencils and the crayons and which way to go and whether or not little kid was purposely ruining the entire day by beating Big Kid to the signs and pretending to read them.

Less than 1 mile in, I was ready to start stabbing people with the pencils. Around this same time, little kid decided he was tired of walking. "You hold me, mumum," he'd beg.

"No, you walk, you're too big."

"I'm not too big. I'm your baby. You s'posed to hold your baby, mumum," he repeated this over and over again for probably half an hour.

The park also has a waterpark, and little kid could barely focus on anything other than wanting to go down the slides. After explaining 300 times that the park wasn't open on week days, and there was no way for us to get in there, he was angry and determined.

As luck would have it, once we exited the nature trail there was a wide open gate to the back of the waterpark and not a soul in sight. little kid took off running towards the pools, and then cried and yelled for me to please just let him go swimming as I tackled him to the ground. Big Kid was back at the last sign screaming because little kid and I had both run past without listening to him read.

As I was strapping them back into the car, I remembered why I try not to take them anywhere. They're like wild animals, except less pleasant.

For dessert I made "dirt cups" with pudding and crushed Oreos and gummy worms in honor of Earth day. Big Kid choked and gagged over his and insisted he just couldn't eat anything that looked like that.

See how this good mom crap doesn't even work?? Why do I bother?

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Dear School Portrait Photographers,

Since when are you people qualified to be personal stylists?

I do not, repeat, DO NOT want you combing my child's hair--especially if you don't understand the concept of how hair naturally lays.

Big Kid's hair was clearly, obviously and unmistakenly parted one way but for some reason you felt compelled to comb the front part of his hair in the opposite direction from the rest of it. I am completely baffled.

Even if you think it would look better from how I do it--DO IT MY WAY. It's my kid, it's my $40 on pictures that almost always turn out like crap.

Big Kid has had school pictures taken three times so far in his life, and one of you beautician wannabes has done your magic 2 out of 3 times. From here on out I will be specifically telling him NOT to let you near him with a comb, no matter what.

I'd rather it be messy than unrecognizable. Just do your job, not his hair.


Mr. & Mrs. Ashley

Eight years ago today, I wore the prettiest dress ever, had perfect hair and make-up, and all eyes on me all day long.

That's right, today is my wedding anniversary!

I tried to scan a photo for you to memorialize my prettiest day ever, but of course my scanner isn't working. Of course.

Our wedding was so much fun. Overall, our whole relationship is a lot of fun. We've had our ups and downs, but I truly can't imagine doing it all with anyone else.

We've been together for 11 years in all...we don't seem old enough for that. Tonight we're celebrating by taking the kids out to the Japanese steak house we went to the night we got engaged.

Let's hope little kid can control himself around knives, food throwing and fire...

Monday, April 20, 2009

Short Stories

Big Kid has started a notebook of short stories. I had to force him to do homework instead of working on it (a decision which I regret and don't necessarily agree with) so he's only finished one story, and had to rush it.

It is exactly as follows:
The story is called The Little mice. Once apon a time there was Little mice they like clocks and they loved making cakes and they don't like cats they like to draw they like books too!

I wrote that exactly as he did and he wrote it all 100% by kid used too correctly!! Damn, am I proud! Most adults haven't mastered that one. He also kicks ass at spelling.

He asked me to write a short (emphasis on short) story for him tonight about two dancing bananas. I don't really know what's up with him giving me homework, but I did:

Banana Dance Off
Once upon a time, two dancing bananas lived together in a kitchen. They were brothers, named Tim and Tom.

Tim thought he was a better dancer than Tom and he challenged Tom to a dance-off.

Tom put on his favorite song and did a great job dancing. Tim was so mad that Tom did so well that he jumped up and down in anger. His peel broke open and he slipped, becoming a banana split and losing the contest.

The end.

Then I drew an epic picture of a happy dancing banana, and an unhappy busted banana.
(it's even worse than you're imagining)

He better love it.

Gone Fishing

My Grandpa gave the boys $50 for Easter, and being the nice mother that I am, I didn't keep it and spend it on myself.

We decided they could use it to go buy fishing equipment at Wal-mart. As you can imagine, this was little kid's dream plan. I wasn't so sure Big Kid would enjoy fishing, but he's been saying he wants to catch fish off of the bridge near our house and then eat them for dinner. I thought this seemed out of character for him, but was impressed he wanted to try.

I personally am not a fan of fishing. I don't eat fish (ever, fucking puke), so sitting around trying to catch and kill them seems pointless at best, excruciatingly boring and unnecessarily cruel at worst. I had fun watching the boys, but I'll admit that I was completely cringing as Mr. Ashley twisted the hook around in the poor fish mouths before releasing them again. I stayed quiet about it though and concealed my grimaces. Everyone had fun.

Today I picked Big Kid up from school and he said, "I miss da fish we caught yesterday. Dey sure were pretty."

I assured him that they did not miss him and were happy we released them.

"But what if someone else caught dem and ate dem?" I turned to look at him and he was doing the fast blinking thing he does when he's trying not to cry.

I explained the food chain and how bigger animals eat smaller animals and that's just how the world works, and I wouldn't be surprised at all if Big Kid takes up vegetarianism. He's distraught. I guess he thought it was just a grand coincidence that chicken the meat we eat and chickens the cute birds share a name.

So, I doubt he'll be eating anything he catches for a while. He also happens to be unbelievably squeamish. little kid scraped his knee the other day and as I cleaned and bandaged it, Big Kid was dry heaving and gasping about having seen blood. Seeing a fish filleted would send him into vomiting convulsions.

The other day he said, "My teacher said sometimes when you lose a toof, it bleeds. Dat made me bemember to never lose another toof ever again. It made me puke inside myself. I'm never letting anyone pull one of my teef now. Finkin' about it makes me go insane in my brain."

"That's not true. That doesn't happen," I started, realizing that if Mr. Neurotic decides not to lose teeth, the next few years could be difficult.

"Are you sayin' dat Miss D. is tellin' lies? She said dat. She doesn't tell lies."

"Maybe she's confused. None of my teeth ever bled. Your last two didn't. It'll be fine."

"I'm glad I bemembered to tell you dat--dat I'm not losing more teef."

He swallowed the last two...could he swallow the whole baby set? Knowing Big Kid, probably so.

Friday, April 17, 2009

10 links

What's wrong with the economy?--funny in a "ha, ha, ha we're so fucked" kind of way.
Dilbert's company economist--and again.
Teabagger party confusion
Did Napolean's wallpaper kill him?--Maybe.
Cilantro porn--this guy really, really, really likes Cilantro. In fact, he'll fight you if you don't.
10 examples of royal weirdness
Crayon art
Godless tribe converts missionary
Laser etched dollar art
Explanation of modern art

See how I started to make this list have a theme and then I got bored of that?

And how I started to describe some of the links but then got bored with that?

Yep, it's Friday, bitches!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

He's a Bad Dude

I walked into the family room a moment ago and little kid said, "I just beat your cat down. I beat it down!"

I looked around the room and saw Pearl hiding in a corner glaring at him.

"Did you just say that you beat my cat down?"

"Yep! Your cat? I beat it down!" he shrieked happily.

"Why would you hit my cat? We are kind to animals. I have told you this before. Why did you do that?" I asked angrily.

"Because I'm a bad dude. I'm a mean dude."

"Then get in time out. I don't put up with mean dudes around here."

"No, I'm not a bad dude, I'm just your baby mumum. I just baby who hit cat," he said with a charming smile.

What the heck is his deal? He is absolutely incorrigible.

Also, where does he get this "dude" stuff? None of us say that. He still says "Yeah baby!" all the time, but every once in a while we get "Yeah dude!" now too.

The other day on our way to lunch, he looked over to see a man on a three wheeled motorcycle and he said, "That's a stupid man. Stupid man!"

We yelled at him for saying stupid and heard him say it several more times under his breath, always venomously at this guy on the odd motorcycle.

We ate lunch on the restaurant's patio and a long haired guy pulled up in a bright yellow Ferrari. little kid leaned towards us and whispered, "That's a bad dude. A bad dude. He's not a stupid man." Then he openly stared at the guy as he tried to eat his lunch from the table next to us. It was really weird.

He's decided our next door neighbor is a bad dude because he owns 4 motorcycles. Whenever we pass his house, he points and yells, "That's a bad dude!"

It's a little embarrassing, to say the least.

Just a minute ago, he picked a scab, held it up triumphantly and said, "I beat my boo boo down! I beat it down!"

He's a laugh a minute (when he's not clogging the toilets with tp, sticking things in the electric pencil sharpener, and rubbing hand soap into his hair) but the phrases he uses and his propensity towards violence really make me wonder sometimes.

Photic Sneeze Reflex

Big Kid has Photic Sneeze Reflex. I recently accidentally came across something on this and was amused to see that there was a name for it.

He sneezes almost every single time he walks out of a dim room into bright light. He has done it since birth--he even sneezed as we first walked out of the hospital with him.

It makes us all laugh every time because it is so predictable.

If I ask him a question as it is about to happen, it stops him from sneezing and leaves him with that awful, unsatisfied, need-to-sneeze feeling, and it's pretty much become a family habit to give Big Kid a minute any time we've stepped into the sun.

I see that there's a support group for bizarre. He'll love that when he's older, little symptom-dramatizer that he is.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Big Kid Hates Rush

This morning on the way to school I was listening to a radio show that was playing clips of Rush Limbaugh telling a Republican war veteran that he wasn't a true Republican because he didn't believe in torture. (If I was a Republican, I'd be thrilled to have this freak defining the role for me.)

At one point, Rush said something along the lines of: "Barack Obama is president because of a bunch of stupid, idiotic people," and I heard Big Kid gasp from the back seat.

"Why did he say dat, mom?"

"Because he's a bad man," I replied angrily. "Wait, that's not right for me to say. I don't know that he's a bad man," I lied. "I just know that he's a poor sport and very close-minded. Some people are open-minded and willing to try new things, give people a chance and respect the opinions of others. Other people think they are right no matter what, they already know everything, and anyone that doesn't agree with them is stupid and idiotic. He's mad because his guy didn't win and he hopes President Obama does a bad job so he can say he was right."

"He wants da president to do a bad job? I feel so mad right now. My brain is like shakin' around in my head, and it wants to pop out and punch dis guy in da eye."

"Well, that's not right either...but he does make a lot of people feel that way."

God, I love that kid. He is my boy, through and through.

You'll also be interested to know that, according to Rush, torture never killed anyone. Maybe he'll sign up for some? Perhaps we can round up a bunch of politically minded five year olds who want to punch him in the eye?

Of all the Oxycontin overdoses, why couldn't this fat fuck be one of them?

Monday, April 13, 2009

Dear Book Publishers,

Please quit redesigning the covers of your books.

I've recently noticed that all of you are doing it. Instead of paying writers to write new books, I suspect you're just slapping new covers on whatever you've got and trying to trick us into buying it again and forgetting we've read it, or being too lazy to return it.

I could understand if it was a 20 year old book with a clearly outdated cover, but that's not the case from some that I've seen.

My trip to the book store was confusing instead of relaxing because of your wily ways, and I'm not even 100% certain I haven't read the book I ended up getting. Either that or I've just learned so much about Marie Antoinette that it is all starting to look similar, which I admit is a possibility.

But still, you're doing it with other books and it has got to stop.


Sunday, April 12, 2009

Happy Easter

Okay, I'll admit it...egg coloring wasn't that bad.

There were 9 colors and little kid had 10 eggs and Big Kid had 11. little kid immediately filled every cup with his eggs, while Big Kid hemmed and hawed over what color to use and what designs to draw with the invisible crayon.

Then when I'd go to take one of little kid's eggs out, he would yell "Put it back! Iz not done!" Luckily, we were able to fit two eggs in one cup and no one had any total melt downs or messes.

After that we made Rice Krispie treat nests with Peeps and candy Robin's eggs inside. They loved that.

We finished up with a bunny hop conga line around the house. It was fun.

This morning they woke up and found their baskets and went outside to egg hunt, which was adorable. Big Kid got a Junie B. Jones "Dumb Bunny" book, Pinnochio, a Plex figurine and a chocolate bunny and little kid got an Indian on a horse, a Noodlebug movie, a book about tractors and a chocolate bunny (that he immediately ate the head off of).

Here they are trying to have an Easter photo taken right after the hunt (Big Kid would kill me for sharing it with you. He wants me to delete it and insists it's "embarrassin'"...however, it makes me laugh until my sides hurt so I have to share):

I hope you have a Happy Easter and that no one steals your eggs.

P.S. I have now watched that video probably close to 30 times and I still laugh out loud every single time. I can't figure out how or why they fell and I love that Big Kid was instantly on the defense.

Saturday, April 11, 2009


So, tonight we're having a little Easter party and dying our eggs.

If you asked me if I'd rather dye Easter eggs with my kids or get poked in the eye with a sharp, rusty nail...I'd have to think about it for a moment.

It will be messy.

There will be whining.

There will be fighting.

Eggs will break.

Someone(s) will cry.

I have already started drinking to prepare myself for the inevitable.

I've also decided not to try to explain Easter in the Biblical sense to Big Kid. Usually I make a point of explaining holidays and traditions (and pretty much everything), but he is just so literal that I'm afraid if I try to tell him that someone was dead for three days and came back to life it would just confuse him big time. It confuses me big time.

He's already very curious about God and still pissed that he took George Washington and dinosaurs from us. When I try to add Jesus into the mix, things get really confusing.

I think in his heart of hearts he knows something is a little fishy with the Easter Bunny and Santa and all of that, but I'm going to leave religion to professionals. I'll have to get him to church one of these days and let them deal with him.

I recently labeled all of this toy bins and made the mistake of putting his microscope set and magic kit in the same bin and labeling it "Magic/Science". Not long after I heard:

"Mom, we have a big problem. Dis says 'Science dash magic' and the science and magic stuff is mixed up in here."

"That's fine."

"Mom, science and magic are like practically opposites. You know dat right? Dat science is not magic? It's real--it's science."

I apologized and assured him that I knew the difference between science and magic, I just didn't realize it mattered so much to him. Now I know.

I think he's going to have some serious questions about religion that I will most likely be at a loss to answer, because I have questions of my own.

So for now, we'll stick with the magic bunny who breaks into our house to litter it with eggs and baskets of goodies. Somehow, it's easier to explain.

5 Links

Humans helping robots--I don't know why but this sweet little tale of people helping little robots get to their destinations made me a little emotional this morning. People are good.

Don't boo Billy--Billy Bob Thornton is a pussy. I kind of liked him at one time, but can't recall why.

Visual Guide to Deflation
--I thought this was simple and informative. The subject matter is still a little too smart/depressing for a Saturday morning, but I thought it was good.

Square foot gardening--This is a neat idea. I have the perfect spot to do it but I'm trying to stop killing stuff, so I probably won't.

Recycled glass countertops--I really like these. Some of them are a bit too much like Terrazzo flooring to me, which I think is manufactured similarly, but many of them are really pretty.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Pearl Harbor

Mr. Ashley is watching Pearl Harbor. little kid is sitting next to him yelling, "Yeah, yeah! Fire! Ship go boom!" and Big Kid is weeping and swearing he'll never watch Starz again if this is the sort of movies they show.

edited to add: Big Kid just squeaked out, "Dis movie is makin' me feel confused" in the saddest voice ever. Poor, sweet, sensitive soul. I guess it is time to turn it off.

Moon Sand

is every bit of the messy, annoying, no-fun-for-me product that I expected it to be.

You know times are tough if I'm breaking out the Moon Sand. We've had it since Christmas and I've managed to hold off until now.

I knew it should have been "lost in the move".

Edited to add: I ended up telling the children "Go ahead and play with it for 10 minutes because then I am cleaning it up and you will never see any in this house again," set the timer, and then swept every grain of that crap straight into the trash can.

Never again. Never, never, ever again.

The Morning After

Big Kid and Em were just making a list of everything they would be doing today. I have not read the list yet, mostly because I'm ignoring them as much as possible (and they make this difficult), but overheard the following:

Big Kid: Go outside
Em: You can't put that. We already did that. Erase that one.
Big Kid: No, no we could go out ag--
Em: Erase it, or I will.
Big Kid: Watch a video
Em: No, write watch a movie.
Big Kid: I want it to say "Watch a video". I'm da writer.
Em: I don't like that. It just doesn't sound good. I wish you wouldn't.
Big Kid: I'm da writer. You shouldn't be messin' wif my list.
Em: That's it! I'll get my own list. 'Cept you have to write it, 'cuz I can't.

I've also had to implement a kissing ban. I took out the camera to get some pictures and she wanted about 50 of her kissing Big Kid's cheek. A similar scene sans camera played out this morning until I instituted the ban. Little hussy.

I was hoping the mysterious "add more kids and somehow it seems like you have less because they amuse each other" theory of parenting would happen today, but not so far.

They are currently arguing about whether or not Ni Hao Kailan (I'm not looking up the spelling) is a cool show or not. Em says it isn't because the girl in it talks way too much....oh the irony!

I have to go feed them something because eating is next on their list.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009


This asshole shot a war veteran's therapy dog for fun.

If you see him, please kick him square in the nuts
and then call the Texas Rangers in Huntsville, Texas at: (936) 435-0152.

I really hope they catch this piece of crap.

Name Time

While I'm busy improperly supervising someone else's kid, let's name my brother's baby!

My favorites are Wyatt Alan or Griffin Garrett. I also like Parker Vance and Ace Alexander.

Here are some others I've been kicking around:

I know he liked Gavin and she likes Mason, and both of those are fine. Ashley has been suggested several times, being the uni-sex wonder that it is, but no dice. I also love, love, love Truett with the nickname Tru, but with his last name it becomes a kick-ass, movie title-like phrase, which isn't what they're going for.

Now give me your suggestions, he needs them and naming babies is fun!


So today I was sitting around thinking, "Gee, kids make my 4 hour work day take 8 hours, are quickly taking over the new house, have been in time-out for at least a quarter of the day, and are generally loud and annoying...where can I get another one of these little bastards?"

So I called Em's mom and offered to have her over night.

Does this make me a masochist? Or just a really good mom?

We're two hours into it and I've barricaded them all into the playroom with the VCR, insisting that such archaic equipment will only work on an older T.V. and shutting the pocket door.

All three of them smell a little weird and could use a bath, but they're at an odd age for co-ed bathing so I'm going to skip it.

Em just came out to inform me that only people with the secret password could come in to the party room. I told her that she shouldn't tell me what it is, so that I can't bother them. She blurted out "blueberry" and left the room.

This was followed up with a trip out from Big Kid, explaining that I would need his secret passcode in order to enter the playroom.

"Okay, don't tell me what it is if it is a secret."

"It is 352-6984-AL-dot-com. Don't tell anyone."

Uh yeah...I won't. Nice password though, mini-freak.

That pocket door isn't serving the purpose I had intended. Maybe I need to push the armoire up against the outside of it?

I mean, they have a playroom, a sleeping room and a bathroom over there....they should be fine.


Higher Learning

I made the mistake of giving Big Kid a dry erase placemat of the United States of America map with a blank quiz on the back, and now I'm constantly being tested on where Ar-kansas and Mi-piss-ship-ee are.

And I thought the math "quations" were annoying...

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Links of Interest

The Dark Side of Dubai--not all that glitters is gold
Real Age quiz is selling people's data--that's really not cool
A woman-only workplace is a bad idea--yeah, women can be bitches.
A word game I waste too much time on--it's not even finished yet, but I really like it
We are small--puts things in perspective. It also proves that it is crazy to think there's nothing else out there.
Final meal requests of Texas death row inmates
--I found this oddly compelling.

Wake Up Call

I made the mistake of telling little kid that we would go to Dunkin Donuts as soon as Big Kid woke up.

He spent the next half an hour stomping around the house shouting, and sneaking into the bedroom to peer into Big Kid's sleeping face and hiss, "Bubby? Bubby? Want donuts?" until Big Kid woke up.

Poor Big Kid, can't even sleep in on Spring Break. I guess I'm now obliged to take them to get doughnuts.

Monday, April 6, 2009

The New House

is amazing.

I love it. My stuff looks great here, the kids are happy, the layout is perfect and the pets adjusted quickly. Even Tangerine's bitchy little ass is nicer than ever.

The first night here, Big Kid sat down on the couch and announced that this house was way better than the other house, and I have to agree.

Today we made another trip to the old house to get more stuff and little kid refused to get out of the car, saying, "I stay in 'til new house. I only want new house."

They think the automatic garage door opener and ice and water on the fridge door is magic, and the discovery of the garbage disposal both delighted and terrified me. We have sprinklers and a lawn service. The microwave was broken so someone brought us a new one, while we ate Sunday dinner.

So, everybody's happy. So far, so good.

This week is Big Kid's Spring Break, which will be a true test of our happiness, but so far the kids are so entranced with having Noggin on television and their own playroom that they're hardly even that annoying.

I know that won't last but it's pretty nice right now.

Saturday, April 4, 2009


I can't believe I haven't posted since Wednesday. If this was a job, you all could fire me.

(But it's not, so you can't.)

I moved!


I'm tired, my back aches, the tile floors hurt my feet, and I can't put the kids to bed until Mr. Ashley shows up with his last load--the one that includes their beds. Other than all of that, I really like it.

I just can't wait for all of my crap to be here and out of boxes, and get some semblance of normal life going again.

Then we'll get the closet back in shape too, I swear.

Good night for now though.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

A Little Awkward

The night before last, Mr. Ashley and I were "relieving some stress" (wink, wink) and not long after we finished, heard the dreaded, "Dad?"

Mr. Ashley wrapped a towel around himself and ran to the family room where he saw Big Kid.

"I couldn't sleep and I came to ask you for da rice pack, but da door was closed and I heard a lot of wigglin' and fidgetin' and what sounded like hard "O" sounds," Big Kid said with a grin and a question in his voice.

"Oh. We already packed the rice pack. Goodnight."

Way to go, Mr. Ashley. He could have at least said we were exercising or playing Jenga or something.

Thankfully, nothing was said the next morning. Let's just hope Big Kid doesn't mention it in school for some reason.

LOL Oops

So, I've had big news for you all that I've been delaying because I misplaced the camera card that has the photo on it.

I'm going to be an aunt.

I was going to announce it by showing you all a picture of the most darling, teensy tiny, leopard printed ballerina flats with pink trim and a pink bow.

That's right--a niece.

After the initial shock of it all, we were all so excited about having a little girl in the family! Yeah, yeah, I had a moment of "I want a girl, not fair!" but then I saw those little leopard print shoes...and a lifetime of opportunity to buy adorable girl stuff without dealing with the full time drama and heartache that daughters can bring.

Kenzie Nicole. Due in August.

This morning my mom called, excited about going with my brother and his girlfriend to an ultrasound.

She just called me from the bathroom, urgently hissing, "What I am about to tell you is not an April Fools' joke. Okay? I'm not joking about this--"

"What? Tell me," I said, semi-worried and curious about the urgency and hissing.

"Kenzie is a boy. She is definitely a boy. Your brother is practically doing cartwheels down the hall while his poor girlfriend is sobbing. I'm in the bathroom and must go back out there, but I'm not joking. Bye."


While I can certainly sympathize with the girlfriend, finding something like that out on April Fools' day is pretty hysterical.

And I'm going to have a nephew!

I use Open Office software on my work computer for word processing. I wrote an article that is supposed to be published in a magazine and is due today. I had it perfect and the only reason I didn't send it on was to re-read it a few times over the course of the evening and to look for a photo to accompany it.

My laptop battery is dead and somehow the cord got knocked loose, shutting my computer off. I hadn't saved (I know, I'm an idiot) but wasn't too freaked out since Open Office does an awesome job recovering whatever was left up.

It recovered everything...but the freaking article. I could cry. I even turned my computer off 3 more times hoping this was some April Fools' joke from my computer, but the article is nowhere.

It has to be somewhere, right? WHERE? Please tell me so that I won't have to kill myself today. I am too tired to re-write and I really, and I mean REALLY, need to pack.